


Musicality

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Love and Honor [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bee and Barrel, Stormsong Valley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: This was a collaboration between @tinydurgenlady, aka Chickaburra, and myself! We headcanoned that our characters knew one another *somehow* and this was their first introduction to one another. Vhienna and Rupurt have had other moments together, but we have not written them out quite yet.The events in this story occur before the events of Battle for Azeroth, but after the events of the Broken Shore during Legion.You can find more art and memes involving Vhienna and Sweetpea on Chickaburra's Twitter at:https://twitter.com/tinydurgenladyA thread of information about Vhienna and Sweetpea!https://twitter.com/tinydurgenlady/status/1222925284061646849
Series: Love and Honor [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168667
Kudos: 1





	Musicality

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaboration between @tinydurgenlady, aka Chickaburra, and myself! We headcanoned that our characters knew one another *somehow* and this was their first introduction to one another. Vhienna and Rupurt have had other moments together, but we have not written them out quite yet.
> 
> The events in this story occur before the events of Battle for Azeroth, but after the events of the Broken Shore during Legion.
> 
> You can find more art and memes involving Vhienna and Sweetpea on Chickaburra's Twitter at:  
> https://twitter.com/tinydurgenlady
> 
> A thread of information about Vhienna and Sweetpea!  
> https://twitter.com/tinydurgenlady/status/1222925284061646849

Rupurt Davenport leaned against the door frame of his tavern and watched the sun slowly set over the fields of Stormsong Valley. He sighed with happy contentment, looking forward to the night’s patrons to begin their treks from the fields and into his common room. A great pot of stew, one of his father’s recipes, had been cooking steadily for several hours already, the heady scent of meat and vegetables in a good strong broth wafting into the cooling evening air. He had several kegs tapped in anticipation of a good crowd, several bottles of wine aerating in decanters, and a good bit of liquor stored by in case someone wanted something stronger. In the two years he’d run his beloved Bee and Barrel, he’d begun to anticipate his patrons and their needs, and a day like today would see more beer and wine poured than liquor.

He reached out and gently tied a trailing vine back away from the tavern steps, setting it on a new growth pattern so it would cascade beautifully instead of blocking the entrance. He had spent his afternoon sprucing up the flower boxes, planting new flowers and herbs in artful displays of color and scent. The Bee and Barrel wasn’t just his place of business, but his home as well. The small living quarters above, just rooms for himself, a guest, and a sitting room, weren’t much, but they were his through and through. The common room and bar area were by far the largest portions of the building, with a small platform on the stairs to his living quarters doubling as a stage for the occasional performer. Sturdy chairs and tables lined the walls, with ample space in the middle for those who wished to dance. He had carefully purchased hurricane lamps set high on the wall, filled with sweet oil scented with herbs, brightening up the corners that the light from the fireplace couldn’t reach. At the time, he had winced at the expense, but now enjoyed the cozy light they provided throughout the room. Overall, the Bee and Barrel was his pride and joy, and he made sure it was as welcoming as possible.

With one last look over the fields, he turned and lit the oil lamp hanging from the Bee and Barrel’s sign, his sign to his patrons that the tavern as open and ready to serve. The sign was one of his favorite additions to the tavern, courtesy of his sister, Tansy. The Pandaren had used the best of her artistic abilities to paint the bee hovering over an untapped barrel of mead, with sea stalks flanking them. With her clear and precise handwriting, she had lovingly painted “The Bee and Barrel Tavern,” a name in honor of both of his fathers. 

The sound of a lute being plucked wafted in the air. Rupurt turned, looking around for the player. A slender woman, her red hair tucked neatly under a floppy brimmed hat, danced her way down the lane towards her tavern, a feather bedecked raptor pacing next to her. He recognized the song as a shanty he had sung during his days aboard the Bellowing Bear, though he could tell the player didn’t know the song in its entirety. 

“Oh, drat it, Sweetpea, I should have had that man teach me the full song when he was sober.” The raptor, apparently named Sweetpea, Rupurt noticed with a grin, gave her companion a gentle head rub and made a sweet prrrrt. The woman laughed, scratching her companion’s head obligingly, placing a loud, smacking kiss on the dinosaur’s nose. “That’s alright, I can probably make it up as I go- Oh, hullo!” She gave Rupurt a short wave, which he returned. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know this song, would you?”

She played the song in double time, tapping her toe to quickened beat. Rupurt nodded along until she got to the part that had tripped her up, and looked at him with a friendly shrug.

“I do, actually,” he admitted. “It’s a common enough Kul Tiran ditty, really. I’d be happy to teach it to you, only I’m just about to open for the night.”

“Oh, you own this place? I was told to look for a Rupurt Davenport at the inn. They don’t have any more space because of a merchant caravan, but they said you may have a room available?” She flipped her lute across her back, extending her hand to him to shake. “I’m Vhienna, by the way. There here’s Sweetpea.” The raptor stood up tall and gave a short prrrt, introducing herself. Rupurt smiled, taking the woman’s hand, impressed by the callouses he felt there. 

“Rupurt Davenport, at your service. And yeah, I do have one room, though it’d be a bit cramped with you and a raptor in it.” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “Stable’s probably full up if there’s a caravan, but there should be just enough space upstairs for her. I could fix her up a nest with some blankets if she’s not opposed to it.”

“Ah, that would do well, honestly. You wouldn’t happen to have anything for two weary, hungry travellers, would you? It’s a bit short notice, but well, we’ve been travelling all day…” Vhienna sniffed appreciatively at the scent of the stew coming from inside. “And I can pay, don’t worry.”

Rupurt looked over the woman and her companion, and thought quickly. Though she hid it well, there was a bit of weariness in her body language. The raptor, while happily accepting pats from her friend, seemed a bit thin, as if they’d seen some hardship lately. He pursed his lips, and whistled sharply twice.

Vhienna jumped as a large bee floated its way off the roof towards the man. Rupurt reached into his apron and pulled out a small pad of paper and pencil, scribbling a quick note on it. He rolled it up and tucked it into a small leather tube attached to the bee’s back. 

“Alright, Gwenny Bee, I need you to go to the butcher’s place. Butcher, Gwenny.” Each word was accompanied by a short dancing moment. Rupurt noticed the woman covering her grin with a hand politely at his antics, but smiled at her with reassurance. The bee flicked her wings with understanding, and took off, headed back into town.

“Bees communicate by dancing. May seem odd to us, but the local hives are fairly talkative if you listen. There’s a man named Barry who roams these parts, teaching folk to talk to the bees.” Rupurt stood aside, bowing gallantly to his two first customers of the night. “We’ll have something for Sweetpea soon enough from the butcher. As for payment, I’ll make you a deal once you’ve tucked into a good meal. There’s a stew that’s been cooking for a while that should be ready for you, and whatever you’d like to drink. After you’re done, we’ll negotiate payment.” Vhienna nodded, making her way inside the tavern with Sweetpea hot on her heels. The raptor paused next to Rupurt a moment, whuffing slightly in his face as if to say thank you, before gingerly making her way inside. She headed directly to the fire, and made a tiny prrrrrt of inquiry at the cauldron of stew hanging to the side of the fire.

“Sweetpea, no, that’s not for you. Yours is coming soon.” Vhinna laid her hand on the raptor’s shoulders, escorting her away and off to a table near the fire. She carefully placed her lute in one of the chairs, and flipped her hat off her head with a flourish. Vhienna had two long, pointed ears and brilliant gold eyes, marking her as a blood elf. Rupurt started slightly, surprised to see sin’dorei in Kul Tiras. She caught his look and blushed, fingering the edge of one of her delicate ears.

“I know outsiders aren’t really welcome in Kul Tiras, but-” He held up a hand, stopping her. Sweetpea wuffed the blood elf’s hair, happy to be close to her friend. 

“There’s been trouble with your folk and mine in the past, yes, but that trouble doesn’t happen under my roof.” His voice was firm, but quiet. “Anything that happens beyond the shores of Kul Tiras isn’t brought here. Folk around these parts are mostly farmers and don’t care about what goes on beyond the boundaries of Stormsong Valley anyhow. Some have family on the seas, but most work in the shipyards. We aren’t fully ignorant of what is going on in the world, but most don’t have any personal grudges. Kul Tiras has been fairly isolated.” 

“Seems like. Getting passage here was difficult, to say the least.” She toyed with the edge of her shirt, looking slightly guilty, making him wonder how she had gotten here at all. Ignorance, he decided, would probably be best. “So folks won’t have a problem with me, then?”

“People are willing to forgive anything if they’ve a full belly, a cold tankard of beer, and a toe tapping tune playing in the background.” He said wryly, thinking on some night in his tavern. “Which brings me to you. Take a seat, miss, and I’ll dish you up a bowl of stew.” She gingerly sat, leaning on her elbows as she watched him deftly pull the cauldron away from the fire, ladle out a big bowl, and plunk it in front of her with a smile. “What’ll you be drinking then, Miss Vhienna?”

“Oh, anything sweet and not too strong would be fine.” She said with a wave of her spoon, digging into the stew. Sweetpea sat on her haunches and watched sadly as as Vhienna ate the first bite of her meal. Her eyes widened with surprise as she said through a thick mouthful of vegetables. “It’s good!”

“I should hope so, otherwise I’d be having a talk with my father about why he’s giving me bad recipes.” Rupurt laughed, pulling a pint of mead for her. He presented it to her with a smile as a boy huffed into common room, carrying a brown paper wrapped package that dripped slightly. Sweetpea, catching a whiff of what he carried, barked sharply, catching his attention.

“Aye, ‘scuse me Mister Davenport, but Da sent me with a haunch for yon raptor.” 

“Aye, Robbie, go put it on the hearth, that’s a good lad. Usual spot.” The boy nodded, quickly dropping the package on a clean piece of slate that had been shaped into a small trough, perfect for larger pets to eat their own meals from. It was heavy enough to withstand the worst abuse the most badly mannered companion, Rupurt had found, so he kept it clean and ready in case there ever was a unique visitor. He unwrapped it quickly, not at all unnerved by the raptor hovering over his shoulder. He gave her a quick pat, which she returned with a prrrrt inches from his face, making him laugh. Rupurt flipped the boy a coin, which he caught deftly, and said, 

“Alright lad, off you get. Appreciate the help.” The boy tugged his forelock in a salute, and scampered out the door, narrowly missing the three men who were just making their way inside. Rupurt was soon busy with the first customers of the night, swapping jokes and pats on the back, pulling tankards of ale and mead, doling out heaping helpings of stew. His unusual visitor sat quietly at her table, not drawing attention to herself as the farm laborers made their way to their normal spots in the tavern. She elicited several appraising looks, but like Rupurt had thought, his normal crowd was more interested in getting a meal and a drink than causing trouble with a stranger. Sweetpea, happily gnawing on the bone that had made up the center of her meal, chirruped happily at him every time he came by the refill a bowl of stew. He dropped a pat on her head as she nosed inquisitively at the dirty bowl he carried, giving him an idea. He held it out to her, and smiled broadly as she licked the inside of it clean.

“She’ll do that all night if you let her,” Vhienna said. “She’ll look for other folk’s bowls if you aren’t careful.”

“Saves me having to scrape them clean at the end of the night and soaking them for hours at any rate,” he said, dumping it into the barrel of other dirty dishes to be washed. He gestured to her lute and asked, “You any good with that thing?”

“Only the best,” she replied with a wink. He laughed, enjoying her cheek. “But yes, I’m decent enough to keep me and Sweetpea fed.”

“That’s good enough for me. How about you play some songs for these fine folk, teach me any I may not know in the morning, and we’ll call ourselves even for food and lodging?” She began to protest, but he interrupted her by saying, “Hoy now, lads, Miss Vhienna here’s offered to play some songs for us. What say you all?” The other patrons let out a cheer as she grumpily stood, reaching for her lute. He stopped her, leaning in to whisper, “It isn’t charity, miss. This lot is always eager for new tunes, and new music makes them dance, and dancing makes them thirsty. We don’t get a lot of musicians around these parts that they haven’t heard before, so if you can keep them happy and their toes a-tappin’, you’ll be more than paying your way. Word will get around quick enough in town, and more folks will come in to hear you, which is always good for business.” She nodded, slightly mollified, as she began to strum, making her way around the common room.

As Rupurt suspected, word got back to town quickly, and by the time the moons had fully risen, Vhienna had a large audience to hear her play. She had a fantastic repertoire, he thought, as she played songs from all over Azeroth. Some he recognized as traditional Pandaren songs, another an orc war chant, and many sea shanties. Whenever she indicated she needed a break, folks were more than happy to play a tune or two of the more traditional songs of Stormsong Valley, delighting her. By the time she was ready to play again, whoever was taking a turn would be happy to stand down to give her the spotlight once again.

Rupurt was amused to see that no small amount of coin was making its way into her floppy hat, which Sweetpea would occasionally flip onto the table with an inquisitive prrrrt? The raptor was slipped all manner of treats and pets as folks realized that she was friendly. She continued to happily lick empty stew bowls clean before they made their way into the wash tub, saving Rupurt quite a bit of hassle with having to clean them thoroughly before they went in. He just added a bit more soap and gave them a longer scrub before they were rinsed, dried, and put away on the mantle. 

He was unsurprised when his usual crowd began to trickle out in groups, headed back to town and their beds. He caught the eye of the butcher and nodded in the direction of the raptor on the hearth, getting a thumbs up in return. He’d have another meal delivered to Rupurt in the morning for the dinosaur. As the last farmhands made their way out with sleepy smiles and profuse thanks to the pair, Rupurt grinned and slapped the cash box as Vhienna counted the coins in her floppy hat.

“A good haul for both of us, I should think.” She nodded happily, tucking the coins in her belt purse. “You did me a favor, Miss Vhienna. I don’t normally get crowds like that.”

“That’s surprising. Folks were saying this is one of the more popular establishments in the area.” She scratched Sweetpea idly, looking at him curiously.

“Well… I dunno about that.” He said, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck. “Only started up the tavern a few years ago. Anyhow, I’ll be cleaning up for a while, so how about I show you where the two of you will be sleeping for the night so you can rest? You played like a champion tonight, Miss Vhienna.” She grinned, gathering her things, and followed him up the steep staircase to the second floor. A small living room with two doors on the opposite wall, one of them ajar, the other closed, lay in wait. It was neat and tidy, everything in its proper place, a habit he had developed after long years at sea. He opened the closed door, showing a small bed, chest, nightstand, a small curtained window, and a large, plush rug on the floor. Using a box of matches, he lit the oil lamp and adjusted the flame as Vhienna and Sweetpea looked around with approval.

“Very tidy.” She said with approval. There wasn’t a fireplace, but the chimney of the hearth downstairs made its way along the middle of the wall shared with his bedroom, radiating heat. He gathered several blankets from a chest at the foot of the bed and laid them over the rug, making a comfortable space for Sweetpea to lay. She made a happy chirrup at him, and settled herself down with a contented sigh. Vhienna began playing a song he recognized as a dwarven lullaby as he smiled and said good night, closing the door firmly behind him.

He spent the next hour or so washing dishes, sweeping, and mopping the floor. Chairs and tables were wiped down, candles and lamps extinguished. The great cooking pot had been emptied of stew by the crowds, so he scrubbed it inside and out and put fresh dried beans in it to soak overnight for the batch tomorrow. He checked the small larder and was pleased to see that there would be enough sausages and eggs for breakfast tomorrow for two people. He was tired, but happy, by the time he had washed himself up and headed up to his own bed. 

\---------

It seemed like he had only just laid his head down to sleep when a crash woke him. He thrashed out of his bed, pulling a robe on as he hurried over to knock on the other door.

“Miss Vhienna? Is everything alright?” Concerned, he opened the door. Sweetpea was snoring on her pile of blankets, unaware of the sight of her companion half out of the window, flailing into the night air.

“Uh… This isn’t what it looks like.” Vhienna said guiltily, pulling herself back into the room. Her lute had gotten caught on the window frame, so she inspected it carefully, ensuring there was no damage.

“I’m sure,” he said quietly, “What were you doing?”

“I, uh… Couldn’t sleep, so I was going to go play on the roof for a while. I didn’t want to wake you.” She said, holding the lute in her hands. Her hair fell over her eyes, covering most of her expression.

“Miss Vhienna, I have slept through much worse than someone playing a lute.” He yawned, scratching his chest. “But, if you’d like to go up there, there’s a trapdoor in the living room. Follow me.”

He turned without bothering to check if she was following, and reached up to grasp a hank of rope hanging in a loop from the ceiling. He gave it a firm pull that made a rope ladder drop to hang in front of him. Climbing up, he undid the latch on the door to the roof, and slid down, gesturing to the sheepish blood elf who stood in the doorway, clutching her lute.

“Head on up, and I’ll meet you up there in a moment. I, uh,” he gestured at his robe, happy the shadows covered his blush. She nodded, slinging the lute on her back, and made her way up to the roof. He quickly changed into pants and a shirt, and without hesitation, tucked his tin whistle in his pocket. 

Vhienna was already strumming her lute, staring into the sky at the moons as they rose over the fields of the valley. He recognized it as a night elven ballad about Elune and her consort, Malorne. He pulled the hatch closed behind her and began to softly play the accompanying part, startling her into making a small mistake. He smiled and nodded to her as she recovered, until they finished the song with a long note that faded into the darkness.

“I didn’t know you could play.” She said, looking at him with approval. He sat down heavily next to her. 

“To be fair, you did only meet me several hours ago.” He joked slightly. Was it the moonlight, or did she have dark circles under her eyes? “If you knew that, I’d be concerned you were spying on me.” She laughed shortly, launching into another song, one he didn’t recognize. It sounded sad, so he let her play, staring into the sky.

“You might be surprised to hear that I come up here often,” he said, twirling the whistle gently in his hand. “Some nights, I have so much on my mind I can’t sleep.” Her song faltered slightly, but she continued to play. 

“Oh? And what do you do if you can’t?”

“Star gaze, mostly. Watching the stars has always been a comfort.” He paused, listening to her song. It was indeed a sad one, a ballad of some sort. “Sometimes, life catches up with me and I need to be reminded that there are bigger things out there than my problems.”

“And what problems would a tavernkeep have, besides an occasional spilled drink or broken piece of crockery?” She asked, her hands stilling as she concluded her song with a mournful glissando. She looked down at her hands, plucking idly at the strings of her instrument. “Seems a pretty simple life to me.”

“I wasn’t always a tavernkeep.” He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the stars. “I was on board a merchant ship since I was eight, with about a five year break in it for training. Up until two years ago, that’s the only life I knew.”

“Eight seems a little young for someone to go to sea.” She raised an eyebrow at him, still plucking the strings in a simple melody he recognized from earlier in the night. 

“It was,” he agreed, “I was a little tyke back then.” She laughed, looking him up and down. He grinned at her, knowing he was anything but a ‘little tyke’ as an adult. “Ah well. It was a rough life for a child. Worse, considering I was thrown into it by a family who didn’t want me.”

He winced as she plucked a sour note on the lute, her hand moving quickly to still it. She stared at him, her gold eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

“Your family didn’t want you?” She asked softly. There was a brief pause. “... I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nah, don’t be. I’m over it, mostly. It was rough as a kid, though, and sometimes it does creep up to haunt me. Some nights, all those feelings just kind of get to be a bit much, and I can’t sleep. Some hurts take a while to heal, seems like. You see, my mother was the product of an affair. A noble fancying a tumble in the hay, without the responsibility of a child. When she got involved with my father, she thought it would be a way to better her lot in life. But, he was from a well-to-do family as well, and when word reached him that she was pregnant, things… Went badly. He was disowned, rejected me as his son, and went off and died at Theramore with Admiral Proudmoore. My mother… Well, she took it badly. She blamed me, and drank herself to death.” Vhienna’s face held a bit of grim understanding, though she kept quiet. He wondered if she knew someone with a similar story.

He turned the whistle over in his hands, his voice pensive. “When she died, she named my uncle, my father’s brother, as my guardian. I guess it was her way of sticking it to his family. Imagine my surprise when my uncle said he didn’t want me, that I wasn’t his family, and I was just a bastard child of a bitch mother. A hard and cruel thing to say to a child who had just lost his mother.” He smiled bitterly. “He foisted me off on my fathers, who raised me as best they knew, given the circumstances. But that sort of thing… It sticks with a man. That wound aches sometimes, even nearly two decades later. My fathers did their best, but I was very angry for a very long time.”

He put the whistle to his lips and began a Pandaren lullaby his father used to play for him on nights he couldn’t sleep. Vhienna smiled and plucked along, their song quietly floating over the hills.

Vhienna suddenly spoke. “Interestingly enough, my family… Well, you can say they are disappointed in me too.” She gave him a quick, wry smile. Rupurt kept playing, listening to her soft words. There were long pauses between her words as she chose them carefully. “Mostly everyone wanted me to be, um… A Farstrider, like my father. Yes.” Vhienna nodded to herself even though she did not sound sure of herself. “But that isn’t my style of grandeur. I didn’t want to be part of battles, I wanted to play music.” She let out a short laugh and grinned, but her hands faltered, falling lightly on the strings. He launched into a different lullaby when the silence stretched on longer than the first song.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there was a battle a year ago - well, maybe two. I lost track.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyways, it was on the Broken Shore. I didn’t go, but my father-” She paused for a long while this time, staring hard into the space in front of her. “He wanted me beside him. My father and I parted on not-so-great terms before he went to go fight. He…” Vhienna paused yet again, this time with a noticeable, self-disgusted sneer on her face. 

“He never came back to give me that earful I deserved.” The expression on her face relaxed slightly into something more melancholy. “I may have lied a little earlier, and I’m sorry. My family was mostly disappointed that I had doomed my father. I try not to think about it, but... A part of me also wonders if things could have been different if I had been there for him.”

Rupurt lowered the instrument, giving her his full attention. A light wind ruffled her hair, pushing it away from her face. Her face was clouded with misery, her eyes gaunt, though her voice remained steady. “In all honesty, I was scared. I shouldn’t have been. And there was Sweetpea - I didn’t want to risk losing her. She would follow me - and has followed me - to the ends of the world, no matter how great the danger was.”

“Aye, she seems the loyal sort. She has a great heart.”

“That she does.” She smiled wryly, “You can probably see why I didn’t want her there.”

“We heard rumors, but Kul Tiras keeps itself to Kul Tiras for the most part. Given the rumors… A lot of people didn’t make it. You probably have survivor’s guilt.”

“I guess you can say that,” she laughed, and began wiping her eyes with a sleeve. Rupurt fished around in a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her. “Ah, thanks.” She dabbed at her watering eyes. “Allergies, you know. New places, new pollens and the like.”

“I get the same way.” He replied solemnly. “Pollen can be a real pain on the shores of a new land. Takes a while to get used to it.”

“Yes, indeed! That pesky pollen!” Her laugh seemed a little too bright, but he tactfully remained silent. She seemed to be mulling over saying more, but no words came just yet. Though the night air was slightly cool, the roof was still warm from the heat of the day, so it wasn’t a trial to sit up there. Belatedly, he realized it had been ages since he had last come up here to watch the stars. Perhaps it was time to start again, he thought as he watched several small clouds sail across the sky in front of the moons.

“While, since I am on a roll here, my brother and I…” She hesitated before continuing on. “We tried to talk about that and other things, but that didn’t go so well either. He was very angry with me, for several reasons.” She fiddled with tuning the lute a moment even though it was already perfectly sound. “He may or may have not been taking care of things by himself back at home while I was gone, so I can understand why he was mad. But now, I don’t know where he is, since I ran off after we argued.”

“It can be difficult, facing rejection from family members.” He said softly, watching a shooting star rocket across the sky. “Especially when pain shared is pain halved. Sometimes it can take awhile for forgiveness to come naturally, but eventually, it could.”

“Hmmm.” She gave a small nod to herself. “... Is that how you coped? By sharing your pain?” She blew her nose delicately, neatly sidestepping his remark about forgiveness as he laughed ruefully.

“Nah. I killed a man.” She stared at him, incredulous. 

“You… What?”

“I killed a man, by accident.” What is it about the night that makes people open up to one another so easily, he thought, looking at his hands. “I used my fists to try to cover my pain, getting into brawls, fighting anyone and everyone I could. Never to kill, but, I was able to lose some of the agony in focusing on fighting. One night, I had a few too many, and got too rough. I backhanded him, and hit his throat. He died, because I wasn’t able to deal with my own emotions.” Vhienna was silent, her eyes on his face.

“My fathers sent me away to one of their families here in the valley. They’re beekeepers, you see. There’s no room for anger around the bees. They sense it, and react to negative emotions by defending themselves.” He showed her a large pock mark on the back of his hand, the scar glinting in the moonlight. “I got that from a drone when he thought I was threatening the queen.”

“So the bees helped you?” She grinned at him, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. “They magically cured you?”

A bat chittered overhead, snapping at bugs on its way across the sky. They watched it pass as Rupurt considered his next words. 

“No. There is no magical cure. It takes a lot of work. The bees taught me that.” Rubbing the pock mark on the back of his hand, he continued. “Nothing comes easy, least of all healing. It took years to get a rein on my temper. Meditation helped, breathing exercises, doing things that felt good, like reading a book, or going for a walk. Stargazing.” She smiled slightly at that, looking at the sky. “I learned to acknowledge my emotions, to examine them, and accept that they were a natural reaction the trauma I had been through. I confided in friends and family. I focused on little things, like the feeling of the sun on my skin, the scent of a flower, the taste of fresh honey, the sound of bees humming. I dedicated my life to serving others, and serving myself by taking care of myself. I surrounded myself with positivity, and eventually, those feelings began to fade.”

“You make it sound easy.” She began to idly play her lute again, a warm up exercise this time, her fingers darting over the strings. He shook his head, giving a soft snort.

“It wasn’t. It took time, and a lot of self reflection. Like I said, healing isn’t easy, especially not when the wounds go deep.”

“Hmm,” Vhienna’s lips quirked into a small smile and she chuckled quietly. “Maybe I should find some bees too.” They stayed together in companionable silence, watching the night progress. Crickets added their own songs to Vhienna’s music, and occasionally, Rupurt would join in either by singing or playing. Only when the moons began to set, did they quietly look at one another with a smile, and get to their feet.

“I’ve never had anyone play with me before.” She admitted, looking at her feet. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, grinning ruefully. “Most people just tell me to shut up.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing out, then. I enjoyed making music with you, Miss Vhienna.”

“And I, you, Mr. Rupurt.” She reached up and tweaked his nose, startling a laugh out of him. “I think I can sleep now.”

“Aye, I could as well. Ladies first.”

Sweetpea, having noticed her friend’s absence, was at the bottom of the hatch. She gave a happy bark when they met her in the living room, nearly bowling Vhienna over in her eagerness to see her. Vhienna hugged the raptor tight, scratching her head gently. Rupurt patted the faithful raptor, earning a prrrrt of his own. 

“Umm, Rupurt?” Vhienna’s voice came somewhere from around Sweetpea’s shoulder. “Thanks for listening.”

“Thank you for listening as well. You are always welcome in my home, Miss Vhienna. Any time.” He patted her on the shoulder, then made his way to his bedroom, smiling when he heard the unusual pair do the same. 

“Pain shared, is pain halved.” He whispered to himself, climbing back into bed. “May her pain be eased someday.”


End file.
